there's no defense except all the errors made

The years have gone by quickly. Death sits in the seat next to me. We make a lovely couple.

People are strange: They are constantly angered by trivial things, but on a major matter like totally wasting their lives, they hardly seem to notice.

the writing of some men is like a vast bridge that carries you over the many things that claw and tear. The Wine of Forever

we drove on and on, past little villages and both good things and bad things were happening to the people in those villages too, but I still was nothing but arms and ears and eyes and maybe there'd be either some good luck for me or more death tomorrow.

pain is absurd because it exists, nothing more.

There is light somewhere.